


The Ranger's Melody

by SpazzieBunnie



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Drama, Fantasy, Gen, OC Story, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpazzieBunnie/pseuds/SpazzieBunnie
Summary: A Ranger fights for another day. Veteran Ranger or not, every NCR soldier fights to bring back the world it once was. Everyone has a goal. Even one special Ranger had a goal to make him push forward and never back down from anything.  This is the story of the Ranger.





	The Ranger's Melody

Same late night. Same orders from the Major and Ambassador. Same weeks without end. That was the everyday task for these ongoing months. The task of guarding and keeping a watchful bears eye against anything that tried to break through the New Vegas Strip’s walls. It was always from the time of 6pm til the stroke of midnight. Six hours of watching and having the binoculars in hand. Being up high on a sign that was the only cover to use if a gunfight were to ensue.

Only a couple of times in the following months had there been a shootout between the offender and the defender. All of the gunfire leads to the defender always winning. The defenders were strong willed sharpshooters with some powerful weaponry strapped to their backs and holstered by their hips. They were the ones that would make anything or anyone fall into the emotions of fear. Possibly even the Deathclaws would have a second thought on if messing with them was the right call or not. 

The occasional troublemakers that tend to throw slurs and insults and some even tossing glass bottles at the New Vegas sign always flee like cowards as soon as they see just a glimpse of the helmet. The ones that letted out their anger or chaotic nature at defenders up top of the sign usually show up before the night would consume the sun and clouds as the afternoon creeps into becoming evening.

You see, night was the best ally for those stuck with lookout. The darkness camouflaged them. It would be almost impossible to see them from afar during the long dark nights. The only way to see them was by a light. Not a white light from a flashlight, but red. Red from their helmet lenses when they activated them with a simple flick. It helped to see in the dark better than people with perfect twenty twenty vision. Even Cateyes weren't that much better compared to the helmet. 

The helmets, the weapons, and the combat armors all belonged to a special kind of people. Ones that push forward the goals of bringing back democracy and rules of law. To bring back order to the Wasteland that was nothing but a broken structure where everyone fought for themselves. To the Mojave Wasteland, it was becoming the Wild West. The nickname for the pre-War American Frontier was returning with ‘Wild’ having to be apparent to this Wasteland.

One powerful federal presidential republic took interest to control and bring their views of society, politics, and laws into the Mojave Wasteland. The New California Republic was quick to try to hold control of it. The primary goal was to annex the Mojave which was home to popular and prominent locations such as the Strip, Freedside, and any other communities that were close by. They fixed on the idea of restoring the land. To save it from slavers. To save it from the harsh raiders. To save it from its own self.

The military of the NCR were even quicker to control the one area that will make anyone become the ruler of the Mojave. The Hoover Dam. Of course this meant that it would have others try to claim the dam. Caesar’s Legion were the ones that wanted to control the dam. What ended was a bloody battle with the NCR being able to become victorious, with the Legion having to retreat. The Legion was wounded but still had the nerve to fight.

Now the NCR waited. Waiting for the second, and hopefully last battle, for the Hoover Dam. In the meantime, The NCR claimed areas and created outposts that were going to be on lookout and some were guarded by their finest in the military. Which brings up those fearful marksmen with a steady finger and Cazador reflexes. Vertan Rangers they were called. The name alone meant these soldiers were full of pride, hope, and dedication to working with the NCR.

If you were a Ranger that served twenty years or more while also having to be a hard worker who was focused on dedication and helping build the good reputation of the NCR, then you would be eligible to become a Veteran Ranger. The ones that wear the black armor and have access to the most unique and strong weapons. The armor was valuable to the eyes of the NCR. A tough soldier who marches on and fears no death. Fears no Legion. Fears no enemy. Fears nothing, and pushes forward to victory.

That was what Vertern Rangers were. A walking shell of armor full of courage and hope for the old world to come back to what it was before the bombs fell, and everyone who was either an NCR citizen, an NCR soldier, or those who knew much of NCR knew that once you saw a Vetern Ranger, it was best to salute or look your head down without saying a word.

That was what most people did when they were walking past the Vertarn Rangers that were strolling on to the streets of the Strip. The NCR didn’t own the Strip but the walking shells of rumored machines in military armor made it feel like they did. The unknown beings were what really kept the Strip quiet and prevented less crimes from being made just so criminals will not encounter these Rangers. It wasn’t just the Securitrons and the NCR military police the people feared. The glowing lenses of the black helmet and the shine of the similar coated armor was what got the Strip to not to dare risk doing anything reckless.

That was what people were doing when a Veteran Ranger started to walk at a normal pace just like the citizens. The lights of the casinos signs basking onto the walking Veteran Ranger and energetic and glooming gamblers since it was pitchblack tonight. The moon being shown just up above the tall and mighty Lucky 38 Casino. The tip of the building looked ready to pick the moon like it was cheese on a platter. A great overshadowing of Mr. House’s hunger for power as his building was the only one to reach to the moon.

The Ranger just walked without care. Their lens only looked forward and never tilted his head to the left or right. The Ranger didn’t help but make the theories that Veteran Rangers were all machines seem more true. Regardless of what everyone feared, the Ranger kept marching on with their attention now heading to a place the soldier called home; or at least a resting spot. 

The Tops Hotel and Casino. One of the most popular attractions on the Strip alongside Ultra-Luxe which was on the other side and in walking distance to The Tops. When you wanted a place that screamed the luxury of gambling, talent, and the finest of drinks, you would instantly think and head down to The Tops. That’s what a lot of people did.

It was the most crowded with some of the patrons being the military police. Many of the MPs would flock down to the Gomorrah to check out the dames in exotic dancer clothing while most would head down to The Tops for the fairly priced liquor and popular talent. To the Rangers, this was a good place to rest after having their hours spent on top of a sign watching out the passing geckos and blowing sand on the ground.

The Tops was one place most NCR soldiers went to for a good night's rest. The NCR Embassy was in the Strip by the far end, but most MP’s prefered to sleep in the hotels since chaotic issues happen on the streets of the Strip and they wanted to be close by; So they said at least. It was a good excuse to try to sleep in a bed that wasn’t filled with others who were wrecked of alcohol and sweat. It was worth getting scolded and being assigned to night shift duty.

Most hotels were occupied by the Rangers who stood guard on the outer walls and protected the place of sin. They were the ones who really deserved it for their dedication and bravery in putting themselves first. It was like a reward to them. The Veteran Ranger walked by the door of The Tops and pulled the handle to open the cool air blasting on the armor. To hear the sounds of people and slot machines all roaring with life in union was the life everyone from Freeside and all over the Mojave wanted to hear in their lives. No bullets or monsterous roars. Just the sounds of success and clanking slots.

The Ranger walked in with the door closing behind and their legs having to move to the reception desk. There, they were greeted by a well dressed man behind a desk. His outfit was a grimy pre-War white suit and black tie. His white skin looked as smooth as his hairstyle. It was the look of a high roller. That was the typical clothing and style for The Tops’ Chairmen. 

There were others like the greeter that had the same outfit and almost similar styled haircut all around the lobby. It was odd seeing what looked like clones in this place, but high-rollers had to look their best to show they were the real deal. The Tops was considered the real deal when it came to being the purest example of what a casino should be like. 

“Hey-hey fella, welcome to The Tops Hotel and Casino!” That charming smile and attitude would make even the sourest of gamblers would crack a slight smile; or at the very least would feel buoyant on the inside.

The Ranger moved forward towards the big curved desk. Their presence did not dent the greeter’s Charisma. Normally seeing a Veteran Ranger for the first time would make your heart beat fast. Getting cold sweats. Feeling your soul leaving your own body. Either the rumors were true with Chairmen being soulless devils in fancy suits or this wasn’t his first time witnessing an armored creature like the Ranger.

The greeter was now close to the Ranger. Before his lips could make a coherent sound, the Ranger’s hand went down to reach for the holster by their hip. A revolver black as coal was coming out of the leathered holster. A closeby chairman took notice and was getting his hand to slide into his suit. Being ready to pull out his weapon of choice if things were going down. When the revolver was shown in clear view in front of everyone who stared at the tall armored soldier, the next motion the Ranger made was placing the firearm on the desk. The handle faced the greeter as the Ranger was starting to get their other weapon off his body. One that was impossible to hide.

Anti-materiel Rifle. The sniper rifle that many Veteran Rangers had when it came to lookouts, being in defensive positions, or going to take down targets from far away. It was strapped behind their back as they removed it and placed the huge rifle on the desk too with the revolver up above it.

“Thanks a lot fella.” The greeter ushered a chairmen over to the desk to collect the weapons. The chairmen looked to see the powerful rifle and the revolver. 

The chairmen was stunned by the look of the dark finished revolver. This wasn’t an ordinary one you could find at Silver Rush down at Freeside or from traders from far away lands. No, This was a weapon of the NCR. Ranger Sequoia. A revolver that was given to only Veteran Rangers after twenty years of service. The handle had the singinia of the bear and the bottom was brass plated with the words ‘20 Years’ etched into it. It was the real deal.

“I never got a chance to ever see one before.” The chairmen placed the strap of the sniper on his shoulder and took the revolver with ease despite the feeling of his nerves getting shaky to handle a weapon of this rarity from a soldier. “Does it have a kickback like a brahim?”

Asking a question to a Ranger was one move that was more deadly than asking a Fiend if they will change their ways. It’s something only higher ranked soldiers and important NCR figures could do, not some chairmen who acts as the bodyguard but now is the carrier who would take the weapons to the weapon locker in the same locked room the casino chips are in.

The two chairmen were nervous. If they could sweat, they would be sweating up a river full of bullets. Just acting natural and cool as a kitten.

“It’s best to hold the handle with two hands.” The muffled voice came out of the helmet. It was male; it sounded human and not a hint of any robotic sounds in the mix of his words. Flesh and blood in metal clothing. 

It startled the chairmen that handled the weapon. The greeter, though shocked as his pal, quickly noticed who it was. The voice was familiar to him. He wasn’t just a regular Ranger ready for a nap. This Ranger was a patron of the art of talent. A true Ace fanatic.

“Oh it’s you! You know, you and your Vetern Ranger buddies should really put a number or name tag on you.” The greeter gestured the chairmen to take the weapons up the stairs and in the locker already. The bodyguard turned weapon handler agreed and started to make his way up to the second floor where the cashier was.

The Ranger looked at his weapons for the last time for the night. Being tucked in with other weapons of his fellow soldiers and ones that gamblers had on them. When the chairmen was halfway up the stairs he turned his attention to the greeter. Still having the smile and charm. Cool as an icecube in an even colder drink of nuka cola.

“Also you are just in time. Amy Ace will be on the stage in a couple of minutes.” The greeter knew right away why the Veteran Ranger came here. It wasn’t to relax in a comfortable soft bed in a private room. It was The Aces that he always went to as soon as he walked in the door.

Amy Ace was a new singer for The Aces. A dame with the finest of blonde hair that looked so shiny in the spotlight. She had a figure that was known to make the men go wild; one of them had to be escorted out of the building since he fainted from her beauty. But it wasn’t the dark blue eyes, hair, and body that made men want to stay and applaud with whistles and hard claps of their palms. Her voice was what made Tommy Torini hire her in a heartbeat.

Tommy runs The Aces and always was looking for new talent on the spot that would bring in the caps. Amy Ace was quite literally his Ace in the deck. He knew he played a good-no, a great hand by hiring her. Her voice was calming. Alluring to hear. She was a kind hearted singer that expressed her soul and emotions through the microphone. She put passion into any song. Either soft music, jazz, or country. No matter what year the song was from she sang away and always had her red lipstick smile as she poured everything into her voice to the glorified crowd.

The Ranger always stayed for her. Once she switches over to the Rad Pack Revue or a comedian, he would get up and head back over to his room to sleep for the night. He always was there with minutes to spare so he always sat on a table and waited for the spotlights to move on either side of the stage.

With an understanding nod the Ranger began to make his way up the same set of stairs the bodyguard went up on. To his right side was the mixtured noise of people laughing and getting to talk about hitting big; to others groaning and cursing at how the game was being rigged. The melody of New Vegas.

He reached to the top of the stairs on the second level of the lobby. There were a couple of people in suits and dresses all lined up at the cashier. The cashier was handing out the chips and caps quickly as lightning. In the caged room with her was the chairmen who had the Ranger’s weapons. He started putting them in the locker. It was a bit of a hassle to try to fit the sniper rifle in it but he seemed he was going to try his damndest to get it in. 

The Ranger turned his attention back to the door of The Aces theater. He was close enough to hear the sound of a mumbling audience laughing their guts out. It might be the RAD Pack doing this comedic routine to get the crowd going before the big star of the show arrived. He got close to the door and used his hand to pull the handle and get the door to open wide. He was met with the loud chuckling and giggles with the voice of a familiar male.

He walked inside with the Ranger now seeing clear as day who was on the stage. It was the leader of the RAD Pack Tommy Torini up on stage using his silver tongue to crack wise. It was a banger with every joke he was making on the spot along with some of his pals who joined in. It was a good cover for Amy Ace to show. Hopefully it wouldn’t turn out to be a sham. There were some moments where the Ranger waited longer for Amy Ace’s arrival. Sometimes it would be some singer. A man whose voice brings in the audience and caps. Not as well remembered as Amy Ace, but he does try. The Ranger just hoped tonight he wouldn’t have to wait longer for her to appear.

He would have taken a seat already by an empty table or with some gambler who was too busy laughing to notice who was beside them, but something made his concentration go from looking at the stage to the bar by his left. It was a man demanding more whiskey with two others beside him. The pals of his were buzzed but nowhere close to being like the rambling drunken man who kept asking for more drinks. All of three of them had another common attribute they shared. The armor. The signia. These were NCR troopers telling the bartender to fill up their cups with the strong liquid.

These three were the reason why most people refused to believe the NCR were the good guys. Always pulling up the example of how they would get drunk, start fights, and always get what they want. It always wins arguments on why the NCR are not helpful. Those three were making fools out of not just themselves but to the whole military and state; It made the NCR’s cause be nothing but a fairy tale. It made others believe that the Mojave should never be annexed by them. The Ranger refused for them to continue on making the NCR and their troopers look abysmal.

He marched with anger all around his body. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was mad and ready to bellow at them. On the stools, the three young men were trying to force the bartender to give them the bottle of hooch. They used only their slurred words as their persuasive way to get the drinks. Who knows how long it would last before they would use their cattle prod or combat knife to put fear to the barkeep. One of those three could stupidly pull out their pistol and discharge the firearm in a fit of drunk rage or by accident.

The Ranger walked up behind the troopers. The bartender looked at the tall metal husk with a blended reaction of fear and pleading. The three paid no attention and kept swearing under their breath for the guy to pour them one more shot or else “they would get the bear angry”.

The Ranger had enough of their stupidity making the bear look shoddy. “Leave the area and go back to the NCR Embassy.” 

The two lightweight buddies that were barely catching a buzz looked at the black coated armored person and were ready to start a fight but quickly shut their lips. This was no average dude. This was a Veteran Ranger who seemed ready to use his bare hands to toss them out without breaking a sweat. The two felt like bear cubs instead of acting all tough like before; their heads looking down to the floor and trying to avert the gaze the Ranger was giving. They knew they were in trouble.

The third trooper had no care for who was behind him. He turned himself around to see the figure standing there like a breathing statue. The drunk brunette was looking up at him with his eyes close to squinting at him. Trying to see what this big dark shape was doing here messing with his vibe.

He got himself up to stand right in front of the Ranger. The trooper looked up slightly at him to meet eyes to lens as the Ranger was much taller than him. A ballpark estimate of 6ft was how tall the Ranger could be. It still didn’t phase the trooper despite his half drunk companions telling him not to do it. Messing with a trooper is bad enough, but messing with a ranger was worse than messing with a cazador nest. With a cazador they would keep stinging you til you were dead on the spot; With a ranger it was just a guessing game of what would happen next.

“What did you say ya hunk of metal?” The Ranger knew his accent well. It sounded Southern. Maybe the drunken trooper came from the state that was once known as Texas. It was a deep accent too; must have been born and raised.

“You are incapacitated. Head back to the NCR Embassy now before I have to throw you out and make you land on the Embassy’s doorstep.” The Ranger was sounding serious. Even the bartender felt himself being startled by the way he was sounding.

“Listen here you trash can-”

The trooper’s friend intervenes to prevent himself from getting into a world of hurt. Either physically or getting to make his soldier life a living hell. 

“Derrick, listen man don’t do this. We could get in serious shit here.” He was trying to defuse the situation. The Ranger was agreeing with the tanned trooper who was smart enough to think.

“Shut up Clyde. No stupid-*hic* f-fucking thing will tell us what to do or what not to do.” Derrick was not going to back down. Troopers always marched forward and threw away their fears or discomfort. This was one of those moments as Derrick turned his attention from Clyde to now back at the Ranger.

“Listen buddy...you got no right to order me around. You know what I am?” It was a stupid question to ask. Clearly Derrick was not in his right mind.

“An NCR trooper. Fighting for the bear and for all of the New California Republic.” The Ranger was quick with his words. 

Derrick just scoffed at him. “Ok smartass. Then you should know my life is a living hell being a soldier.” He hiccuped while wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “It sucks shit!”

The Ranger gave little sympathy towards the drunken Derrick. Being a soldier was something dangerous. No doubt about that. The trooper's actions from just a minute ago was not going to let him get away with what he was doing. 

“It is true. The lives of us soldiers are hard. I still advise you to head back to the Embassy and I will be willing to forget what you were doing.” An offer was made on the table. One nobody would ever refuse. A chance to not suffer by a Veteran Ranger’s wraith.

Derrick took it. Then he squashed it. “You don’t know nothing pal…”

Those words made the two guys beside him cringe and breath air through their teeth. He could have just taken it and walked away. He could have been walking down right now and resting his brain. He could avoid getting into a fight he wouldn’t win. Derrick was still standing tall without having a glimpse of cowardness in his eyes. The only feeling he felt was enragement. 

“You metal husks are all the same. Acting tough while you get the simple jobs. You shoot your targets from far away. You get better issued armor. You get to have the best weapons and yet you want to act all ‘Us soldiers got to be tough together’ when all you do is stand outside on top of a sign. Meanwhile me and my boys here go in the front line and risk our asses. You are nothing but a weakling in a thick skin of black sprayed on sheet metal.”

Those were the worst words you could ever say to a soldier. The worst words to say to a veteran ranger. The Ranger stayed silent. The two onlooking troops just could only watch and look at any twitchy movement the Ranger might make. His trigger finger wasn’t moving. His hands weren’t making a single flick. The Ranger stood his ground while the tipsy trooper was standing still without thinking of what he said was insulting. 

Quietness between the two was overcrowded by the laughter of the audience. They had no idea of what was going on at the bar as Tommy and his crew were busy with their comedic routine. Either the RAD Pack was oblivious too or they wanted to keep the crowd away from seeing some drama happening at The Tops.

No movement was made between the two soldiers. Derrick took the chance to mouth off again despite his friends beside him telling him to shut it. “You know nothing of war. Just getting cozy for being a good bear and doing nothing but follow orders.”

The Ranger cut off Derrick’s attempt to throw any more sentences at him. “What does the bottom of the Ranger Sequoia’s handle say?”

Derrick’s eyes went from squinting with anger to now starting to open out of confusion. He would ask again but he didn’t want to be made an idiot in front of the two buddies beside him. He boldly letted out his answer. 30 he said. 30 years of service. His friends barely knew of the revolver but Clyde knew that it was the wrong number. 

The Ranger told him straight up. The answer was 20. Derrick felt more embarrassed that he failed something that an average trooper should know. The bold trooper refused to look more dumb. He demanded to know why the Ranger was asking him a question like that. The Ranger again went forward while looking him in the eye. No brakes or nothing. He was going full force on what he was ready to tell Derrick.

20 years of service. Of fighting through wars and continuing to fight without end. Only a few rangers who filled the quota to become a veteran ranger were selected. Some would turn down the offer because it was deemed more dangerous than their old rank. Some would take the opportunity to bring honor to NCR and to bring freedom and order back to the wasteland just like in the pre-war America the NCR once knew.

What made the Ranger become what he is today? Standing there with the armor he wears with pride. Wearing it and taking care of it every single day. What made him become a veteran ranger? Simple. He believed in the NCR’s word of rebuilding the Wasteland. Fixing what America used to be. With laws and order. With people no longer trying to survive the harsh radiation and creatures and raiders. Society returning to what it once was.

The life of a veteran ranger is tough. They don’t earn it by just being the kissass and looking cool. Blood, sweat, tears and keeping your pride strong is what helped the Ranger become one of the elites of the NCR military. He has seen and been in many battles before joining the NCR. He survived them all. With some wars having him being injured. He still continued his duty to fight until victory was achieved. The Ranger never quitted in his life.

He lost friends during the time of his battles both before and during the time of being in the NCR. Some from a bullet. Some from Death’s hourglass ending their time on Earth. Some from sacrificing themselves to save others. He has seen it all. War never changes. Even if it was the war to end all wars, bloodshed would be made. Bodies will still be on the ground. Millions of bullet casings laying on the grass, the sand, and the snow.

He wasn’t a veteran ranger because he would be hiding in thick metal armor with top tier weaponry by his side. He was one because he chose to continue helping rebuild the Wasteland. One single step at a time. He wanted the NCR to go down in history as New California being the state that brought back the old world into the Wasteland. The Wasteland slowly dissolving away its chaotic nature over time. The world would return to normal in many passing years. That was what the Ranger wanted.

Having to press all of that on Derrick made the trooper feel his head spin like crazy. It wasn’t just the alcohol that was making his brain throb in pain but having to be piled on with so much information from the Ranger. It made him feel not just like a simpleton in front of others, but it made him start to reflect that even this monster under armor really had gone through much just like the trooper. He felt like an asshole but his cockiness and valiantness assorted with the whiskey shots refused to let him bring out any sort of pity to the Ranger.

“Whatever…” Derrick wanted to leave and enjoy the rest of the night. When he went to take a walk he felt like the one step he made was making his leg feel like jelly. Clyde and the other trooper quickly came to his aid and held him by the arms and upper body to make sure he wasn’t going to fall. They had his arms wrap around the back of their necks and were ready to walk him out together. 

Clyde was quick to issue an apology to the Ranger. He didn’t want him nor his other pal, who he addressed as Jamerson, to be in more trouble that they already were. Nothing came out of the Ranger’s mouth. Just only the helmet looking at the three. It seemed his time to talk was now gone. Not even a peep of the Ranger’s breath escaped the helmet. The three troopers went on before they could make it worse on themselves. The two struggled to open the door while Derrick was trying to keep his feet from slipping or kicking the two troops that were helping him.

The Ranger’s attention went back to the bartender. The barkeep felt solaced at having the drunk troops situation be taken care of. He just wasn’t expecting the security that came to his aid to be the big badass armored troops he heard quite well about. The bartender offered the Ranger his big appreciation for the help and also provided a choosing of any alcohol he wanted. Beer or scotch or even the finest of wines. The Ranger could have any of his choosing as a reward for defusing a situation that could have gone bad any second.

The Ranger looked at the fine selection. You would think that their next door neighbor the Ultra Luxe would have the finest of alcohol instead of The Tops. His head moved slightly and looked at every inch of the stand behind the bartender that showed the drink in all their glory. He made a decision. Of course he was going to want a bottle of the finest drinks in all of the Mojave. Though he never did ask for a type of drink. 

He asked the bartender what kind of drink was Amy Ace’s favorite. The barkeep was a bit bemused at the Ranger’s question. Regardless of how odd it seemed he told his savoir that the choice of alcohol she drinked was a fine wine. The Ranger asked for that bottle as soon as he heard the last two words of the sentence. The bartender turned himself and was face to face with the drink Amy loved the most of all. He grabbed the bottle and turned himself back around to present it to the Ranger. A gift for saving him and the reputation of The Tops. 

The Ranger declined the bottle being given to him. Now the bartender was mystified of what the Ranger was doing. Was he messing with him like the last trooper? Maybe it was; except the Ranger refused to take it because the bottle was not going to him. It was going to be in the hands of Amy Ace. The bartender quickly understood with a nod. He then asked the name of the Ranger so he could let Amy Ace know who was the one that gave it to her. 

The Ranger turned his head to the stage. He heard and saw Tommy starting to get himself ready to introduce a special star. He was saying the right words to showcase that the next person was one the Ranger was ready to see. 

“The gal who knows how to sneak into your heartstrings.” 

“The red dressed angel with an ‘Ace’ up her sleeve.” 

“Amy Ace.”

The bartender interrupted the Ranger’s staring as he asked for a name to give for the bottle for Amy. The soldier looked at the dark red bottle with a cherry red wrapped tinfoil around the neck of the bottle. His head then looked up to the bartender. He gave him a name; really it was more of just a vague saying.

“To the injured bear.” The Ranger gave the bartender something to tell the star of the stage with the gift in hand. He turned away and went over to an empty table with four chairs by it. There he sat on one of them with his arms laid across on the table. His observation was finally on the stage. With the crew of the RAD Pack starting to head over to one side of the stage and going behind the stage’s curtains while Tommy was pointing to the other side.

As his finger pointed over to the left side of the stage everyone was already getting to whistle and carry on. They knew who was coming. They were anticipating her. Within one second she started to walk on the stage floor with her matching dark red dress and dress shoes. Her blonde hair looked freshly brushed and pampered to have that nice 50’s style. The eyes of everyone and the spotlight all couldn’t stop being on her. The Ranger was watching with his helmet still on his head and looking with the crowd.

Tommy clapped for her arrival as he hopped off the stage and letted Amy take control of the microphone. Her red lipstick smile showed she was ready to sing her heart out. After the noise was dialed down she giggled and began to speak to the stand mic with both hands clutching on the handle of it tightly.

“I’m glad to see this place is still crowded as ever all because of lil ol me.” She spoke the truth in her soft charismatic voice. Everyone went to The Aces for the talents and singers, but Amy Ace was the one that made the theater be sold out for many nights since she started working here. 

She continued. “I know some of you are new here. Being curious about what the commotion was going on in The Ace. Wondering who this Ace chick is.” Her eyes were glancing at the left and slowly moving over to the right. She had a good look of everyone with smiles and looking love sickened by her. Her eyes then met to where the Ranger was. An outfit too well known. The same one who appears on every single show she comes in. Her smile grew slightly wider to where you could see her pearly whites.

“Some of you...have been here before and always come back for more of my singing.” Her pupils never moved away from the Ranger’s lens. Staring at only the red with the Ranger not moving his head to look away from being shy like the others or just not moving at all. Looking at her as Amy looked like she was trying to play cool. 

Her staring ended as she went back to looking at her audience. She began to be back as her old self as if she wasn’t having her eyes meet an armored stranger. She started to go into a monologue. A lot of men here loved to hear what she wanted to talk about. She has been to places outside of the Strip and Freeside since she always was a lover of thrills and exploring the world outside the metal walls.

“I went to this place called Novac. Quiet little town. Had a huge dinosaur near its motel. It was nearby Helios One. It seemed quite friendly and simple. I had bodyguards with me of course so don’t worry. We went into a motel room and I had the radio one. It was on Radio New Vegas. Mr. Vegas was talking about events going down. NCR this and Legion that. Then he switched to the music he always plays from time to time.” 

Amy started to look like she was almost tingling just from being ready to explain what happens next. “Then I heard this one song...mellow. Powerful. A voice of a woman and a stringing of a guitar blended perfectly together. It sounded so astonishing. It was two strangers forming as one and making a perfect melody. Two people from two different worlds...colliding as one. It’s something of a rarity to find in the Wild Wasteland.”

She started to put her lips close to the microphone. Amy’s face showed excitement. It meant she was ready to sing the song of her choosing. Whether it be old or new, she was going to make sure to let all the passion and soul blast through to the crowd. “That song that I listened to and now will share with you...is called Johnny Guitar.”

The music played on cue. The crowd already was hollering and being ready to hear the star of the show sing her lungs out. The buildup was the fun part. Waiting to hear her smooth voice let out the melody. The tune was slow and gentle. The guitar playing in the background told everyone it was not for the ones who wanted to shoot nor for the serious hardcore fighters. It wasn’t a song to listen to when you were killing Super Mutants or Fiends or even just taking care of the Gecko problem. It was a tune to reflect on. 

Music can be like a safeway drug. You would listen to it for hours on end and feel like you would be empty without it in your life. Depending on the mood it can be almost like it was attached to you. A part of you that stayed by your side since birth. Johnny Guitar was one song that the Ranger adored; and with Amy Ace being the one to do the vocals made his night feel slightly better.

Amy’s singing was the only reason he spent his night in The Tops. It wasn’t because of her looks. It wasn’t because of any attempt to try to score big with her. It wasn’t for money or attention. Her voice was like a river that made his sins be washed away. All the blood he had spilled throughout his entire life on the radiated soil was all over his soul. 

Doomed to never be cleansed. The red liquid would wash away from the purified water on his body, but his inner self and psyche were always going to be tainted. It was until he caught an earful one lonesome night. The closer he got, the more his body felt the tension of his body starting to lower itself down. Feeling calm for more than a second. Her voice was helping his mental state and himself with every song she could sing. Every time she said a word, the Ranger felt pure. Inside of his metal shell was a hardened soldier that would kill in a blink of an eye. Inside of his flesh was just a man that was willing to survive and to try to make the world a more livable place at the cost of his mental health degrading over time.

No more shooting. No more blood pouring out of holes. No more fighting. No more sounds of the weapons going off in loud thunderous booms. It was only the voice of Amy Ace. Curing the ailments the Ranger had in his system. It was something he never thought would have. Peace. Her voice was his guide.

He never had a true goal to make sure the Mojave was annexed besides to bring the good name to the NCR. Yet something seemed wrong with it. What would make him push forward more and never ever think of having to surrender? The people maybe. The world coming back as its original self was one he strived for. Fighting for someone...he never did. The Ranger was solo. Having some veteran rangers and troopers by his side all the time didn’t mean they were friends. Just soldiers trying to survive and protect the Dam.

He never thought of fighting for anyone...except her. The one who was on stage pouring her heart out into the crowd and almost ready to shed a tear from how powerful this song was to her. The Ranger would never tell a soul, but on this night he could feel emotion. A feeling of hope. A feeling...of never giving in to the enemy. Any enemy. It was the feeling of getting ready to fight for whatever the next day had in mind. He was going to continue and push onward for one person. One that will never seem to escape from the Ranger’s attention. He would fight for The Ace’s top singer. To make sure the Wasteland is safe for her to travel and explore more. No more bodyguards. Only herself to walk on the dirt and discover new places on and around the Mojave Wasteland. 

He would do this for her. It was like a favor. He would bring her an America where no more did you fear of Fiends and mutated animals and even of the Legion. In exchange, all he wanted was to hear more of her singing. In the Ranger’s head it was fair trade. His body would feel the ease and his mind would be remembering the good past he once had; and he would have brought order and law into the Mojave.

It was like a treaty...two different strangers forming together to create something beautiful. Something that seemed impossible to do. He was going to be fully committed to it as it would mean she would get to see another day in a chaotic-free land. Amy Ace wasn’t going to be a poster to boost morale. She was going to be the one example that showed the true reason why the Mojave Wasteland needed to be saved from its wild self. A pure innocent carefree soul that needed to be protected at all cost.

The Ranger would be there to make sure New Vegas was safe. To make sure she was safe. To make the whole American Wasteland be safe for not just everyone, but for her as well.


End file.
